


From New York With Love

by johnny cade (johnnycake)



Series: Switchblades and Leather [25]
Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Abuse, CSA, Death, Funerals, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 08:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15045479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnycake/pseuds/johnny%20cade
Summary: Dallas goes to New York for a funeral. Two-Bit and Johnny come with him.





	From New York With Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lost in New York](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860283) by [dyingpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet). 



> i’ve never been to new york, so if any of this is inaccurate rip i’m sorry. also pls read the original!!! it is amazing and is what inspired me to write this to begin with!!!

_Dallas,_

 

_One of our buddies died. He got shot in a drive-by last week. I know you ain’t here no more, but he said plenty before he died that he wanted everyone here for his funeral. So I’m letting you know. It was Sam Harlot. You better be there._

 

_Darius_

 

The letter was short and written on a postcard, most likely gotten from a corner store or a gas station in the heart of New York. Dallas could see the turning wire racks of postcards in the shops in his mind’s eye as he stared at the barely legible writing on the back. There was no return address. The picture on the front was of the New York City skyline from across the bridge. It was a beautiful shot. And it made Dally’s heart skip a beat as a fist closed tight around it.

Few things scared Dallas Winston, but there was a reason – several reasons actually – he left.

_It was Sam Harlot._

A part of Dallas felt numb at the thought that his ex-boyfriend had been the one that died, the one that was now requesting he come back for his funeral. Another part of him felt like it was karma what had happened to him. The brand on the inside of his right thigh stung at the thought. At the same time, it felt like all of the burns, the small cigarette burns covering his body, burned as well.

Sam had been Dally’s boyfriend in New York. When Dallas was twelve and Sam was twenty-four. At the time, he’d felt special, chosen, _important_ that an older man would want to be with him. Sometimes it still felt that way. But in the depths of his heart and the pit of his stomach, it felt different. Sam had burned him for doing things he’d decided he wasn’t supposed to. He had sex with him, which was bad enough. But then when he’d left he’d used a hot iron poker to brand the inside of his thigh. He’d told him it was a goodbye present, something to remember him by. Dallas could still feel the pain on his thigh from the fire and the pressure of Sam’s lips on his as he burned him whenever he thought about it.

 _Now you’re mine forever,_ Sam had said afterwards, a leer on his face.

Even then, the look and the words had made Dally’s insides shrivel up and make him sick.

Seeing Sam’s name, writing in Darius’ hand on the postcard made the same thing happen now. And yet, despite that, he really was thinking about going back to New York for the funeral. Darius hadn’t outright threatened him if he didn’t go, but he could tell from the last sentence that Tulsa wasn’t far enough for him to run without them coming to find him. Immediately, Johnny’s smiling face flashed through his mind and he thought of all the horrible things a New York gang could do to him before finally killing him.

He had to go. The thought made his heart clench still, but he had to go.

Sam was dead. He still didn’t know how to feel about that, but he wasn’t risking Johnny.

But he wasn’t going to Sam’s funeral alone. So the very next day he asked Johnny and Two-Bit if they wanted to come with him. He was unsurprised when both of them said yes. Two-Bit didn’t work and neither did Johnny, which was part of the reason he asked. The other reason was he knew Two-Bit would protect Johnny and that Johnny wouldn’t do well if he left without him when he didn’t have to. A part of him felt like this was counterproductive to his original thought of not wanting the gang to find Johnny, but he would never see them after this. If he had to, he’d leave Tulsa with Johnny and make the gang swear not to tell anyone where they went.

This was the last time he was going back to New York.

* * *

The taxi they took, after parking and hiding the car they drove to New York in the woods, sped away from the curb, a splash of water going up onto the sidewalk as he did so and Dallas jumped back to avoid it. They’d taken the taxi into the city and hidden their car because it was easier to take a taxi than try to find parking in New York City. Dally still wasn’t convinced their car was hidden well enough, but he tried to put it out of his mind. Right now they had to find their way to Grace Church for the wake and then Woodlawn Cemetery for the burial. The wake was first. That was why they were in the city first. The cemeteries were in the city’s suburbs.

It had been years since he’d been to the city, but being back opened a floodgate of memories. Not all of them were terrible. Some of them were useful. Like now for instance, he remembered instantly how to get around, the map of downtown he’d drawn in his head years ago coming back to him bit by bit. He checked the street sign and thought of the church address. They had several blocks to go. Too far to walk comfortably. But if he remembered right there was also a subway entrance only a block or two away from their current location.

“We’ll take the subway,” he said to Two-Bit and Johnny after a moment. They’d both been standing awkwardly at his side, Johnny with his hands in his pockets, scuffing the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe and Two-Bit drinking as surreptitiously as possible from a beer in a paper bag he was trying to hide in his leather jacket. He wore his Mickey shirt. Johnny wore his denim jacket. As usual. They both looked up at Dally’s words and nodded.

The streets were crowded, far, _far_ more crowded than they _ever_ were in Tulsa. Dally kept looking over his shoulder as he walked, making sure Johnny and Two-Bit were still behind him. A part of him was afraid of something happening to one or both of them. Mostly Johnny. He seemed prone to trouble. And New York was a lot rougher than Tulsa. He flinched internally at the thought of moving here with Johnny. Johnny had been all but tortured in Tulsa because people found him easy to victimize. What would happen if they came here?

It would never happen.

He walked faster.

The stairs echoed as they descended into the subway station at the end of the block. The station itself wasn’t too crowded, but there were a fair amount of people on the platform. Most of them were staring down the dark tunnel that led into the subway tunnels, watching for the train. Others were talking in low voices to one another. There were a few sitting on the benches in the center of the station reading books or flipping through day planners. It was such a contrast to Tulsa. Even here there were more people in one place than Tulsa had in entire diners sometimes.

“What’s our stop?” Two-Bit asked, leaning against one of the support poles and taking a drink out of his beer in his paper bag. Dallas was still surprised no one had said anything yet, but then again, this was New York. People were doing stuff like that on every corner. There were probably plenty of teenage boys in New York at this very moment doing the same thing.

Dally thought for a moment, trying to figure out from memory which trains stopped where, but there were more trains and stops than were streets in New York and he had to run to the wall to check the subway times and grab one of the brochures full of times and destinations. After a few moments of studying it, he turned back to Two-Bit and said, “We want the train going to 5th Street. Our stop will be the fourth.” He checked the brochure again. “No, the fifth.”

Two-Bit nodded, Johnny did too. Johnny hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten there and Dallas knew why. People frightened him and there were a lot of people in New York.

Another two trains rumbled through the station, whipping their hair and clothes as they roared through without stopping, before finally the train they needed to get on stopped in the station. Dallas winced internally as it came to a slow stop. Through the windows, he could see the subway packed with people. All of the seats were taken, there was only standing room, and while some people got off once the train stopped and opened its doors, it wasn’t enough to make enough comfortable room for the passengers getting on in the station.

Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at Johnny and watched his skin pale and his throat move as he swallowed hard. He could imagine his hands clenching in the pockets of his jacket as well. He wanted to take one of them, hold it tight, reassure Johnny that it was going to be okay. But he didn’t know how Johnny or the people around them would react to that so he didn’t.

“C’mon,” Dally said, ushering Two-Bit and Johnny onto the train, trying to get there first, so they’d have their pick of where they wanted to stand, but there were twelve other people who had the same idea and the doors were not made to accommodate more than two people entering at a time and it plugged up the entrance. Dally tried to keep track of Johnny and Two-Bit as he got into the car, but everyone was pushing him and he couldn’t turn the way he wanted to. Before he had a chance to search again, the doors were closing again and the train was starting to move.

 _It’s the fifth stop,_ he thought to himself, his own hands clenching now. _They know that. You’ll just meet up when you get off the train._

His eyes scanned the crowd again and he found Two-Bit and Johnny a few yards away from him near the second door closer to the front of the train car. They spotted him as well and Two-Bit raised his paper bag while Johnny raised his eyebrows and gave a small smile. He smiled back and looked away, feeling comforted.

The train stopped four times. The fourth time, Dallas went closer to the door and when the train stopped again he stepped out onto the platform, walked over to one of the supporting pillars and leaned against it, lighting a cigarette as he waited for Two-Bit and Johnny to come out after him.

But they never did.

The doors closed again, the train took off, and Johnny and Two-Bit were nowhere to be seen.

Dally took his cigarette out of his mouth, watching the train speed off, wondering if they were still on it or if they’d gotten off a stop early.

Horrible images filled his mind of Johnny getting hurt or worse as he ran up the station steps tot he street. He looked left and right and started walking to the right as he pulled out the brochure still in his pocket and opened it with shaking hands, tracing the path of their train with his finger, looking for the stops before and after him. There were less stops before him, so he decided to start there. It was almost twenty blocks back to where they’d begun. He grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. That wasn’t very far. And he needed to find Johnny before something else did.

* * *

Johnny had been on edge ever since they got to New York. His fingers, which would have been shaking otherwise, were clenched around his switchblade in his jacket pocket as they walked through the streets. His eyes flicked every which way as they walked down the street. His heart pounded in his chest. No one noticed anything, not even Two-Bit and Dallas and that was because there was so much else to notice and he hid it well.

He’d relaxed slightly when they’d gotten to the station. There were less people. But his anxiety had spiked once more when they’d gotten on the train, this time surrounded by people on all sides.

“What stop did Dallas say we get off at?” he asked Two-Bit softly as the train started to move. It was an attempt to distract himself from his heart, pounding in his chest once more. His fingers were clenched so tightly around his switchblade in his pocket that he was certain his knuckles were white.

Two-Bit thought for a moment and replied, “I think the fourth.”

Johnny nodded in response. He couldn’t remember exactly what Dallas had said, but he did remember hearing something about the fourth stop. That sounded right.

It was lucky that they were right next to the door. There was a speaker right next to it as well. He could hear as the prerecorded announcer called out the stops as they happened. Once they got to the fourth stop, he and Two-Bit hopped out and went to stand by the support pillars to wait for Dallas to get off the train.

But he never did. And it wasn’t until the train doors were closing and the train itself was already moving that he realized they must’ve made a mistake because he could see Dallas through the windows, still on the train. He didn’t seem to even notice that they’d gotten off the train a stop early and Johnny felt his heart sink as he took a couple of quick steps towards the train as it sped off.

“Shit!” he heard Two-Bit yell, realizing he must’ve seen the same thing he had. “Shit, Johnny, I’m sorry. I thought for sure he said the fourth stop.”

“It’s okay, Two-Bit,” he replied softly even though his voice and hands were shaking. “I thought the same thing. It ain’t all your fault. I forgot too.”

His mind was already working quickly, trying to figure out what they could do.

“We could walk to the next stop,” Two-Bit said at the same moment he thought it himself. “I dunno how far that is, but they gotta have one of those brochures Dally was lookin’ at at the other station here, don’t’cha think? We can figure it out.”

Johnny nodded wordlessly, the world spinning around him as he thought of Dallas only god knew where by now. If he hadn’t noticed they were missing yet, he would soon. It was only the next stop. Maybe then he’d come to look for them or they’d find each other on the street as they were both headed to the stops they’d missed each other at.

Somehow that seemed less likely. There were so many people on the streets. It would be all too easy to walk passed each other and miss each other. And that was assuming to begin with that they walked to the stations the same way on the same side of the street. There were too many risk factors and Johnny had no idea how they’d ever find each other in a city this big unless they both decided to just meet up at the church. Unless they both got worried the other wouldn’t think of that.

Two-Bit went over to the far wall of the station to get a brochure and Johnny stood by the stairs leading up to the street, his hands still in his pockets, the fingers of his right hand still curled tightly around his switchblade in his pocket.

“Hey kid, what d’you got?”

Johnny jumped, turning to his left to see a man dressed in dirty clothes. The hood of his beige jacket was pulled up and he wore sunglasses. He had a gray mustache and white skin, but that was all he could tell about him. Except that he was also taller than him. Johnny swallowed hard, his fingers curling more tightly around his switchblade.

“Answer me!” the man shouted.

Johnny jumped back and automatically pulled his hand with his switchblade out of his pocket, flipping it open as he did so, holding it out in front of him. But this only made the man angry. He bared his teeth and jumped at Johnny.

Johnny cried out, staggering back as the man caught him and he fell to the ground. He waved his arms wildly, still crying out unintelligibly from terror as he did so.

The man kept trying to catch his arms, hold them down and that only made him panic more, kicking the man in the stomach as hard as he could. The man loosened his grip just enough that he pulled away and got to his feet, staggering back, tears streaming down his cheeks, his whole body trembling as he held out his knife still.

The man got slowly to his feet. He looked furious and he didn’t even look tired. He looked about ready to rush him again when out of nowhere Dallas came between them and his the man as hard as he could on the jaw. The man dropped to the ground again almost instantly.

“Go pick on someone your own size you piece of fucking shit!” Dallas screamed at the man, who was still on the ground, staring up at him in dazed shock.

The man stood again and started moving towards Dallas, but Dally once again hit him on the jaw. This time when the man fell, he started moving away from him. He ran through a small ring of people that had started to form around them as Dallas turned to him and Johnny, even though the terror still high in his chest, wondered how he’d gotten to them so fast.

“Johnnycake?” he heard his voice coming to him as if from a distance. “You okay?”

He tried to make himself nod, but he shook his head instead.

He could see the concern in Dally’s eyes, see the frustration at his helplessness as he knew there was nothing he could in front of these people that would help. It only made the tears in Johnny’s eyes come faster and the sobs rising in his chest surface.

“C’mon,” Dallas said, his voice soft as he wrapped an arm around Johnny’s shoulders, leading him away from the crowd. Somehow Two-Bit was suddenly beside them and when Johnny looked at both of their faces again he saw what he could’ve sworn was guilt in both of their eyes, but he didn’t see how that could be true. None of what had just happened had been their fault. If anything it had been his for pulling out the knife.

But none of them said anything and they all walked in silence to the church.

* * *

Dally had been in track for a couple of years in middle school. He’d enjoyed it and, though he’d never been in track in high school, he remembered the running techniques he’d learned and still ran today. So he implemented those techniques and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, practically flying as he moved, needing to get to Johnny as fast as possible. He was worried about Two-Bit as well, but...people didn’t bother Two-Bit. It was always Johnny that got into trouble.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw that what he’d been afraid of was already happening. There was a man on top of Johnny and Johnny was screaming. He saw a flash of silver and he knew that the man had scared Johnny enough to make him get out his knife. As he watched, going down the stairs at the same time, Johnny got out from under the man and backed up. His face was twisted with anguish and fear. There were tears pouring down his cheeks and that look alone made Dally jump the last four stairs and hit the man on the jaw as hard as he could.

Luckily the man went away after he hit him again, but when he turned to Johnny, he looked like a wreck. He was shaking violently and still whimpering from fear. More than anything Dallas wanted to wrap him in his arms, hold him until he stopped shaking and crying, reassure him, but they were surrounded by people. And he didn’t know how they would respond. In truth, he didn’t really know how Johnny would respond either.

For all he knew, touching him right now could get him stabbed.

He instead wrapped his arm around his shoulders and led him up the stairs to the street and then down the street to the church, Two-Bit following them. He didn’t ask what had happened, but he didn’t really need to. Two-Bit had probably left him alone for a second. Probably to get that brochure he was holding in his hands. And in that one moment, someone had found Johnny.

But Dally didn’t blame Two-Bit. He blamed himself.

If he had kept track of Johnny to begin with, this never would have happened. When he looked at Two-Bit, he saw the same guilt in his eyes, but he knew it wasn’t his fault. Two-Bit couldn’t have known that someone would come after him in the two seconds he went to grab a brochure. Dallas, on the other hand, had known from the beginning something like this might happen. He’d let himself get separated from Johnny anyway. This was on him.

It was all he could think about as they walked down the street to the church.

It was all he could think about as they went through the church for the wake.

Even when he looked down into Sam’s coffin and saw him dressed in his best suit, his eyes closed, looking like he was sleeping with all the makeup the morgue had put on his face, he didn’t feel the jolt in his heart he’d thought he would. He didn’t even see Sam, really. He could just see Johnny’s face, twisted with anguish as he rushed down the stairs.

How many more times would this happen? How many more times would Johnny get hurt? And how many more times would he have been able to prevent it?

This was what he thought of through the funeral service once they left the city in black cars – his old gang mates allowing himself, Johnny, and Dally to ride in one of the cars with them – for the cemetery and were standing around a grave, a coffin half lowered into it while a priest spoke.

Every time he blinked, he saw the cemetery back in Tulsa, and a much cheaper coffin being lowered into the grave. He saw the gang standing around the dark hole of the grave, staring in at the coffin, trying not to cry. Everyone was there. Except Johnny. He was in the coffin. And every time Dallas thought of it, he had to clench his hands into fists to keep himself from screaming with fear.

How many more times? How many more before that was the end result?

The reception after the service was awful and Dally did all he could to make sure they were there as short a time as possible and yet, even then they got roped into staying for three hours because his old gang mates asked him and he was too afraid to say no. It wasn’t until the sun had gone down that they were finally heading to the motel one of his gang mates said he’d reserved and paid for a room for them for the night at. It was called the _Aqua City Motel_.

Dally hated it. He liked the color Aqua. He hated New York.

Johnny fell asleep quickly, crawling into one of the two queen sized beds in their room and passing out within moments of his head hitting the pillow.

Two-Bit and Dallas stayed up much longer.

Dally sat on the edge of the bed Johnny was sleeping on, Johnny’s back to him, and stared out the window while smoking. The curtains were pulled back and he could see skyscrapers of the city not that far in the distance. The moon shone big and bright overheard and he could even see a few stars.

Two-Bit sat on the couch close to the window drinking from a bottle of whiskey he’d swiped from the reception. It was still in the paper bag even though they were in the privacy of their own motel room now, staring off into space, the moonlight silhouetting him.

Dally crossed the room and joined him. The whiskey bottle was big enough there was plenty for the both of them. Neither of them said a word as they passed the bottle back and forth. There wasn’t any need to. They both felt bad about the same thing. They both blamed themselves. And they were both afraid of what the other would say if they actually apologized for it.

“Fuck New York,” Dallas finally said softly, blowing smoke at the ceiling, his head spinning from the booze, everything fuzzy around the edges.

“Yeah,” Two-Bit replied, taking a large gulp of the whiskey. “Fuck New York.”

Johnny, who no one knew was awake, staring across the room at the door, unable to sleep from the horrors in his mind swallowed hard and nodded his head ever so slightly.

 _Yeah,_ he thought to himself, shifting slightly in the bed. _Fuck New York._

**Author's Note:**

> my best friend came up with the headcanon about dally's abusive ex-boyfriend for the beginning, but the rest is inspired by my other best friend dyingpoet’s work <3 so yeah pls go read their original!!


End file.
